


My Beautiful Beast

by madmeatball



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Fairy Tale Curses, M/M, Magic, Redemption, Second Chances, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-23 13:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madmeatball/pseuds/madmeatball
Summary: Though Adam was now free from his curse, and all the villagers were united with their families, there was still a story left to tell. For their was someone else who required a second chance. And this time it was not Agatha, but another kind sorceress who was to start this tale. And with a little feline magic, their abandoned hero was about to receive a second chance.





	1. Welcome home Gaston

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Gafou shippers! After falling deep into this fandom I decided to try writing a fanfiction myself from a prompt I thought up while bored at work. I have not written in years and this ship has given me the spark to try writing again. I hope you like it. I am open to criticism and comments since I have been out of writing for so long I could use some work. Do enjoy my silly little story :)

In the quaint town of Villeneuve, things were beginning to settle back into the usual routine. It had been about a month since the fiasco with the beast, and rumors of the event had spread to the neighboring villages. The town had seen many tourists and travelers stopping by to hear the tale in person, and some even got lucky enough to see the castle and the royal couple themselves. The influx of new faces seemed to breathe new life into the small town making its familiar sightings hold an air of mystery.

It was during this time that our story begins, one of magic and wishes, but above all one of growth. For on that night one curse was lifted, but elsewhere a new curse was beginning. A new lesson had yet to learned if this fair town was ever going to truly flourish. This is the story about separating the truth from tail by seeing one’s life through new eyes. 

Our tale begins on a dusty road leading to Villeneuve. It was early in the day, the sun shining overhead and birds chirping their favorite songs. A travelling merchant was sitting atop his wagon, admiring the scenery as his old mare trudged along at a comfortable pace. They were off to set up shop in the village for several days, hoping to turn a profit from the recent tourism. His wares weren’t much to look at, mostly dresses and other garments which did not sell in the cities like Paris and so made their way to the smaller villages that dotted the land. His wagon was a bit heavier today however, for along the way he happened to pick up a traveler at the last tavern seeking transportation. 

His passenger was a young woman in her early twenties. She had raven black hair and mischievously dark eyes. Her skin was tanned from exposure to the sun and freckles dotted her cheeks. She wore a red peasant dress with cream colored trim, which although nothing fancy, accented her smoldering features. She wore her hair up in a loose ponytail with braids throughout, and on the sides two thin green bows. She carried little with her, only a cloak and a small bag. The only other thing of interest was her travelling companion, a strikingly black cat. He was a long-haired cat, with dark brown eyes and a cute pink nose. He had a strange demeanor about him from what the merchant could tell, almost as if he was aware of everything that was going on. As they neared the village, the merchant swore he had caught sight of the cat pacing in the back of the wagon. 

“Little town,  
It's a quiet village  
Ev'ry day  
Like the one before  
Little town  
Full of little people  
Waking up to say”

The woman sang softly to herself, continuing the tune with a hum. She watched her cat pacing, occasionally stroking his back.   
“Miss, Meryl was it? You said you came here to meet your father?” The merchant turned his head, trusting his horse to stay on the path. 

Meryl smiled up at him shyly. “Yes, my mother told me that this was the village he was raised in. I hoped to find at least something about him. Oh, sir! You can let me off here. I wanted to have a look around the village. It is such beautiful countryside out here.”  
The man pulled back on the reins, slowing the wagon. “Alright, well you be careful miss. Plenty of wild animals out in these woods.” 

“Thank you, I will.” She gathered up her bag and cloak, and scooped her cat up into her arms. She waved the merchant goodbye and watched as his cart carried on into the town. Meryl smiled and glanced down at her cat. “We finally made it Gaston. We would have been here sooner if it hadn’t taken you so long to get accustomed to your new look.” Gaston shot her a stern glare. “Now don’t be like that. I saved your life if you haven’t forgotten. You got lucky that I just so happened to be on my way to witness Agatha’s magic when I spotted you dying on the ground. In the spirit of the moment I figured you deserved a second chance too.” Meryl poked his nose and started walking towards the village. “I figured a month away from everything would give you time to calm down and think about what you’ve done. And before I decide to turn you back I am taking this chance to learn about you. And since we look similar, pretending to be your long-lost daughter from the war should do the trick.” 

Gaston hissed and struggled to free himself from her arms. Merly gave his head a strong pet. “Stay with me, I really don’t want to have to save you from dogs or hawks again.” Gaston let out a low groan and went limp in her arm. Meryl smiled and rubbed his ear. “Welcome home Gaston.”


	2. Shall we begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meryl enters Villeneuve to find it to be a sweet village. First things first, they will need to buy some food and locate some lodging if they are going to stay. Along the way, Meryl begins to get an idea of how the villagers see Gaston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took me so long, life has been busy and the time to sit down and write never popped up. I hope you like it. The pacing in this story is a bit slow and Meryl is mostly the main character for now until a little while later when Gaston will start getting more alone time away from her so be patient. Thank you for all the support.

Villeneuve was a busy village in the morning as villagers bustled about, setting up their stalls or running their daily errands. Before she even crossed through the perimeter fence that set the town’s borders, Meryl could already feel the warmth and joy exuding from the atmosphere. If Meryl didn’t know any better she’d swear Villeneuve felt perfect, if not for the cranky cat in her arms. 

“Well, since I plan on staying for a few days, we’ll have to do some shopping. I don’t carry much food on me when I travel. And lodging. Staying at your home would be nice but unless we’re invited to do so that is out of the question. Especially if you didn’t live alone.” Gaston shook his head, lifting his head to stare out towards his old home. “Well then that can be a goal for us. Hopefully they haven’t already handed it off to someone else.” Gaston hissed, extending his claws. 

Meryl laughed, “Come now, for all they know you’re dead. Eaten probably. In a small town like this the space shouldn’t be wasted. But enough of that for now, shall we begin?” Meryl flicked his ear, gaining her a vicious glare. Meryl finally passed into the town, heading toward the marketplace. She reached into her bag, assessing how much money she had currently. “I should have enough for some food and at least one night’s lodgings. After that I guess I’ll have to find some quick work.” Gaston glanced up at her curiously. “I know, I should have made more before we left but you seemed so eager to leave I rushed.” 

Meryl was not used to small villages, she tended to linger in large cities like Paris. In her experience, small magical instances were easy to mask in such large spaces and countless people. Meryl was not much for the grand scale of Agatha’s work, though she loved to admire it from a distance. She wouldn’t lie though, this town, though quaint and simple, was like a breath of fresh air. It also gave her the chills of a challenge. 

Meryl took her time walking the streets, gazing up at the buildings and admiring the simple dress of the folk around her. She relaxed her face to appear more innocent, but with a subtle sultry air. It did not take long before she caught a few men staring at her. She flashed several of them a friendly smile. Gaston perked up in her arms, head raised high as she paraded him around. “You seem to be enjoying yourself. I guess with your looks you were used to the attention.” Gaston cocked his head with a smile pulling at his lips. 

The smell of food and fresh goods filled the air, matched only by the shouts and footsteps of the people passing by. Meryl paused by the fountain which sat in the middle of the square, looking over all her choices. “I best stick with vegetables, fruits, and bread for now. Without proper lodging, I can’t keep anything that will spoil. Though I suppose I’ll need to pick up a little something for you.” 

Meryl began by approaching the baker who was pacing the square, selling his produce likely on the tray it was baked on. “Hello monsieur, I would like two rolls please.” Meryl flashed him a sweet smile. The baker smiled back, and she caught a hint of red in his cheeks. 

“Sure thing madame. I don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts. You new to Villeneuve?” 

Meryl nodded, handing the man money for the rolls. She slipped them in her bag for now. “Yes, it is a lovely little town.” After some thought she figured it time to start her investigation into her new subject. “I was actually coming here in search of the man who I believe to be my father. I believe mother said his name was Gaston?” 

The baker’s whole body seemed to shift in an instant upon hearing that name. He looked around before uttering a short cough. “Oh…well then. Sorry to tell you madame but your father is dead.” Meryl let out a gasp, holding Gaston close against his abjections. The baker frowned, giving her a soft pat on the shoulder. “There was an incident recently if you hadn’t heard. I suppose he was killed during the fight.” 

Meryl lowered her gaze, trying her best to appear saddened by the news. “Oh…thank you monsieur for telling me.” Meryl walked away from him, slowly to seem disheartened.

Gaston growled, pushing against her firm grip. Meryl eased up for now, returning to the task of buying food. She picked up some carrots, tomatoes, berries, peaches. At the fruit stall, Gaston meowed and swiped at the apples that were arranged neatly to the side. Meryl pulled him back, “Now kitty, you know better than that. If you want an apple I will get you one.” Meryl purchased an apple to share with him later, eliciting a slight purr. Meryl gave his head a soft pet, spoiling his mood. “You can be cute sometimes when you want to.” 

Gaston eyed a man carrying an egg basket as Meryl passed by. “Sorry, but we can’t get any of those until we have a place to cook them.” Gaston protested, scratching at her to let him down. Meryl dropped the cat and watched as he scampered over, following the man. She chose to remain back and see what mischief Gaston was about to get himself into. 

Gaston meowed at the man, tugging at his pant leg. This got him nowhere as the man seemed more interested in the woman he was speaking to. They shot each other flirtatious glances and honeyed words. Gaston huffed and grew louder, beginning to catch some of the others’ attention. The man finally looked down at the cat at laughed. “My what a beauty you are.” The man reached down and stroked Gaston’s head and back. Meryl stifled a laugh as she watched Gaston go rigid under his hand before swatting him away. Ridiculed, Gaston jumped up onto the stall the lady had been working at and looked at the basket. “Sorry cat, these eggs are too expensive for you.” The man shooed Gaston back, moving the basket away from him. Gaston’s hair stood on end as he hissed and growled. The man’s happy demeanor changed and he raised a hand to shove Gaston away.

Meryl swooped in behind him, grabbing Gaston up. “I am sorry monsieur; my cat is such a rude little thing. Did he hurt you?” Meryl reached out to touch the man’s arm. He blushed and retracted his arm. The woman huffed and returned her attention to her work. 

“No, he merely gave me a hard time.” He straightened his posture and smiled. “I would not imagine such a rough cat would have such a lovely mother.” 

Meryl smiled back and winked. “He is a protective one. He has been my loyal travel companion.” Gaston hissed, staring down the man. “I came down here looking for the man I was told was my father, Gaston.” 

The man looked her over before answering. “Now that you mention it I do see a resemblance. Unfortunately, we haven’t seen him around since the beast fiasco a month back.” 

Meryl frowned, “So I have been told. Is there anyone I might talk to…If I can’t see him, it would be nice to at least learn what kind of man he was.”

The man rubbed his neck, “Well, he was the owner of our tavern in town. He owned it and decorated the inside, spent his nights there after hunting for the village. Some of his drinking buddies go there often. They could tell you more. You could also spend the night there, where most of the tourists have been staying. Everyone wants to hear about the beast story.” The man looked down to see Gaston reaching for the basket and pulled it father away. 

Meryl sighed and nodded, “Thank you, I apologize for the trouble my cat has caused you.” Meryl and the man gave waves before she turned back toward the fountain. “So the tavern was yours then? Well, I guess I know where to visit next.” Gaston’s tail flicked at the mention, how he had missed the laughter and admiration he felt inside that place. The songs, the dancing, seeing his accomplishments painted up on the ceiling. How he had come to miss his chair.


	3. Old Stomping Grounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meryl and Gaston enter the tavern. They run into Tom, Dick, and Stanley who begin to fill Meryl in on who Gaston really was. Meryl also learns of his friend Lefou, a crucial piece to Gaston's recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in an update. Life has been hectic lately. I hope to start on the next chapter soon now they we are starting to get to the good bits. Thank you everyone for reading and encouraging me to write more.

After taking the time to look over all the shops and wares on offer, Meryl decided it was finally time to visit the tavern. From the snippets, she had heard around the square, Gaston is one of or the owner. At the least, he had decorated the tavern with his trophies. Meryl prepared herself for the worst as she descended the stairs into the warm atmosphere below. 

It was early afternoon and already the tavern was alive with laughter and idle conversation. Meryl remained on the stairs for a time, taking in the atmosphere. The tavern consisted of one long room, made to feel longer with its vertical benches and sharp edged columns. The walls were lined with various head mounts, which she assumed had come from Gaston. At the back was the bar, engraved with lions and already covered with several used tankards. Large barrels lined the back wall, answering Meryl’s observation that the room smelled particularly strong with liquor. 

Above the bar were the words “Gaston the Hunter,” above which were what appeared to be medals or emblems of some kind. To the left were stairs which Meryl assumed led to other exits or perhaps rooms to board. Finally, to the right there was a roaring fire which did most of the work keeping the room lit and heated, apart from several chandeliers and mounted candles. Beside the fireplace stood a chair that seemed strangely ornate compared to the benches and stools strewn about the place. The chair was made of sturdy but worn wood, the back intricately colored with red and gold patterns. The arm rests were carved and smoothed to shine. Meryl let out a small chuckle, “Bit of a showoff, were we?” 

Meryl descended the stairs, making her way to the bar. She had only intended to speak to the barkeep for now about a room, but was stopped prematurely by an older with wavy hair pulled back into a small bun. “Well now, I reckon I would remember seeing a pretty face like yours around before. You must be new to Villeneuve.” He turned to smile at her, drawing the attention from the two men standing beside him. One was moderately attractive with his hair pulled back into a pony tail and brandishing a handsome goatee, the other seemed over dressed for just a regular day in the tavern, and there was a certain air about him that Meryl recognized immediately. 

“Good eye Tom, a lovely lady like herself must be one of them tourists, hey Stanley.” The man nudged the third, eliciting only a quick nod. Meryl got a squint in Stanley’s eyes as he looked her over.

Meryl gave a shy smile and small curtsey towards the men. Gaston swished his tail, letting out a small meow to greet the men. “Hello messieurs, my name is Meryl. I would not say I am a tourist, though I will not lie my curiosity is peeked about this town’s story. I am actually here looking to meet the man I was told could be my father.” Stanley set down his tankard, the look in his eyes growing in intensity. Meryl guessed he already knew the answer that was coming. 

“My mother said my father’s name was Gaston, she- “

“GASTON!” Tom exclaimed, nearly spilling his drink in shock. The other man spat out a mouthful in Stanley’s direction, making him jump back. That word seemed to suck the life out of the tavern as every eye was directed towards Meryl. She peeked around before shifting so her back was to them, turning her focus onto the men. ‘Well.’ She thought, ‘there went having at least one day before I was talk of the town.’ 

“Yes, my mother said she met him during the war and well…” Meryl set Gaston down on the ground, hearing him scamper off. “Now that I’m a woman I decided to take the trip here to see if I can see him.” 

The three men shared a look before Tom let out a small cough. “Gaston is…no longer with us.”   
“Good riddance, “Added Stanley before taking a sip. The middle man nudged him roughly, shooting him a warning glare. 

Meryl nodded slowly, clutching her hands together. “So I’ve heard in the square.” Meryl took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to give the impression she was calming herself. When she opened her eyes, Tom was offering her a full tankard. Meryl accepted the drink. “I was hoping, since I won’t be able to see him, if maybe someone could tell me about him. It would be nice to get to know the man that was my father.” 

Tom and the middle man seemed skeptical at first before Tom spoke up. “The resemblance is uncanny Dick, don’t cha think?” 

Dick rubbed his head, “I wouldn’t put it past the man.” He waved Meryl over to have a seat at the bench near the fire. The other patrons moved to make room for them. Some returned to their conversations and drinking, but their eyes continued to wander over. Meryl noticed Gaston was sitting in his chair, sprawled out and content. His tail flicked around, kicking up dust from neglect. His eyes shown bright from the fire as he watched the group attentively. Meryl muffled a laugh, not having seen him so full of himself. 

“Where to begin.” Dick sighed, taking a long swig which led to a loud belch. He blushed slightly, remembering his present company. “Gaston was like a town hero here. When he was a young man, some Portuguese raiders attacked our small town. Gaston helped lead the charge against them. We drove those fuckers back to where they came from!” The men lifted their pints in honor. “Gaston saved our families, even helped most of us rebuild our homes.” The smile on Dick’s face faded. “The poor lad lost his father during that fight. We only had time to give him a brief funeral.” 

“We never once saw the man grieve. The day after the attack he was up bright and early to help mend the town.” Tom reminisced, holding the drink up to his mouth. 

Meryl frowned, turning to face the fire more. “That must have been so hard on him. To lose his father after saving other’s…to be unable to protect the ones you love.” Meryl lifted her hand to her heart, continuing the act. Though she did honestly feel sympathy for Gaston. His tail had stopped flicking about, and his eyes seemed more distant. She’d be sure to speak with him about it more later.

“After that, Gaston joined the army. He got a taste for the fighting I guess. He wasn’t bad at it. They must have thought so too because he made Captain shortly after entering.” Dick continued, pointing to the ceiling above them. “He had that painted upon his return, ‘Gaston the Victory.’” 

“More like Gaston the memory. All he ever did was live in past and brag about himself. Now that he’s gone they should just paint over them.” Stanley hissed, slamming him tankard down. 

Tom rubbed Stanley’s shoulder. “Now, now, that’s a bit much. The man was stuck in his glory days, it’s true, but you can’t fault him on that. Not much happens around here for him to go on about. The man just liked telling stories, getting a little praise here and there. Besides, he lost his mother to sickness during the war, poor man didn’t even get to come home to bury her.” Tom sighed, getting up to fetch them more drinks. 

“I can blame him for a few other things.” Stanley murmured, not meeting Meryl’s eyes. Gaston let out a long hiss, jumping onto the arm rest of his chair, hair standing on end. Stanley jerked back, looking back over at Meryl. “What’s up with him?”

“Oh he must have seen a mouse or something, he’s a good mouser.” Meryl reached over and rubbed his head, hoping he caught the hint. Gaston eased up, returning to his seat. He stopped glaring at Stanley, but Meryl could hear the light groans still emanating from him. “I never imagined my father would be such a hero. I knew he had been in the military but mother never told me his rank.” 

Meryl stared back up at the painting, taking in the details. Gaston was standing tall with his saber outstretched, towering over the bodies of his enemies. The pose did suit him, although the scene was much to like a fairy tale then the graphic nature of real war. She found it amusing that a man who seemed to enjoy killing, both animal and men, as much as he did kept his aesthetic so tame. A detail caught her eye in the painting, a shorter man off to the side, staring up at him in awe. Meryl was about to write it off as just a stand in for the villagers. Gaston did seem the type to exaggerate himself while making others appear small by comparison, but something about the look of the man seemed too specific. “Who is that in the painting?” Meryl asked, pointing up to him.

Stanley followed her finger, giving a small smile. “That’s Lefou.”   
“He is…was Gaston’s friend.” Dick added, “They fought in the war together. Thick as thieves they were, even to the end.”   
“Until he left him behind.” Stanley barked. 

Tom and Dick both turned to shut Stanley up, reminding him who he was talking to. Meryl wasn’t listening, her eyes moving from the painting to Gaston sitting on his chair. For the Gaston she knew to even share that much of the spotlight with someone was a feat in itself. Gaston has slumped down in the chair, looking away from the men. If she didn’t know better, it almost looked like the pangs of guilt in his eyes. 

Tom huffed once he shut Stanley up, returning to the story. “Stanley is right, during the Beast incident, Gaston did seem to- “ Tom’s voice trailed off as his eyes turned to the door. An older man had just entered, he was tall and lanky, but dressed up in nicer attire then most of the peasants. He was chatting and laughing with a shorter gentleman. It was hard to see his face at first as his hat blocked her view, but Meryl’s interest piqued. 

“Maurice, Lefou!” Dick waved at them, raising his glass to them. Gaston perked up, ear’s standing tall as he shot a glance to the door. Maurice waved back, as did Lefou, but as their eyes surveyed the table they both seemed to freeze. Meryl felt a small smile creep across her lips. This is the clue she was hoping for.


End file.
